Golden Nuggets

By Randy McNeely

On Valentines Day this past Monday, my soon to be eight-year-old taught me a valuable lesson, though I didn't really realize it until this morning. You might say, I got the spiritual wind knocked t out of me, I've received a wake up call, I've, hopefully, "seen the light."

I had gone upstairs to shower and get ready for work after working out. When I came back downstairs and sat down at my table with my laptop, I found a little piece of paper on it. With the piece of paper was a little golden nugget (a rock painted gold). The note said, in child scrawl, "Happy Valentines Day, Dad."

My sweet daughter came running in right at that moment and said, "Did you get the note Dad?"

I smiled and replied, "Yes honey. Thank you very much."

"Do you like the Rock?"

Then I made my mistake. I said, "It's wonderful. Would you take it and keep it safe for me."

I can still hear her answer as if she were saying it right this moment. "That's okay Dad. I know you don't really want it."

"Oh, but I do want it. I'll keep it with me."

"Yeah, Okay."

Then she walked away.

As thick headed as I am, though it bothered me some at the time, I shook it off, stuck the rock in my sweats pocket and continued checking my email.

The real lesson came today. After getting dressed and coming downstairs to exercise, I slipped my hand in my sweats pocket. There was the rock. At the same time I glanced up and noticed the little box that my daughter keeps her collection of gold painted rocks in. I decided to just slip the rock in there. She would never notice. As I did so, I heard a voice in my mind say, "Keep it." I started to walk away and the voice spoke louder. "Keep it! Let it be a reminder to you of how precious your children are. Don't treat them or their gifts, given from the heart, lightly anymore."

In that instance I felt as I'd been punched. All the precious pictures, rocks, twigs, marbles that my children have given me, that I've taken for granted, seemed to parade before my eyes. I could see their angel smiles as they gave me the gifts. I can see the various locations where I set them, and forgot about them. I can hear myself saying, "Thanks, would you keep them safe for me?"

Then thoughts of all the hugs and kisses, the joyful greetings "Hi Dad!" Followed by thoughts of all things I've missed because I allowed my hobbies to take precedence over time with my children.

Needless to say, my heart has been pricked. I have a great desire to repent and do better. I'm going to keep that nugget. In fact I'm going to have it mounted with the words, "Never forget how precious your children are!"

New Opportunities

By Randy McNeely

New day's bring new opportunities. The are like the clean page of a journal or diary waiting for you to write on them. I'm grateful for that. Far to often I mess up one day, only to realize that a new day is coming and I can try again to do better and mess up less.

Writing is like that. We can start out with a less than masterful work. However, over time, we can rework and polish our creation as long as needed until we are satisfied with it.

The gospel is like that too. We make mistakes but because of the Savior, we can try try again. What a blessing to know that we are not stuck in one spot today because of a mistake we made yesterday.

Painting With Words

Have you ever thought about how much writing is like painting? Just as a good artist can paint a picture whose bright colors and scenery, or whose fine detail or majestic subject draws you to it, so a great writer can do the same with words.

I've been thinking a lot about this lately. I love a story that takes me away to far off places, and brings those places alive in my mind. You know the kind. The minute you start reading, you are somewhere else--in a castle, on an airplane, in the mountains, in the jungle, in someone's head, in another galaxy--and you can see, in your mind's eye, through writer's wordsmith wizardry, the place described in vivid color or shades of gray or shadow.

I also love a story that gets my emotions going--that allows me to feel what the characters feel. As the good writing artist continues, describing situations, sharing character's feelings, building up suspense, you can feel what the character's feel--wet, sloppy, snow against your face; cold that chills you to the bone; fear of the unknown; steamy, hot jungle air; the smell of Indian spices--the list could go on forever.

Another aspect I love about truly artistic writing, and perhaps I should have placed this first, are great characters--believable characters, lovable characters, nasty villains I love to hate. I thrill when a writer helps me see a character, hear a character--know a character. I can hear that character's voice. I can understand what they are feeling, or at least be hooked enough to want to understand and learn more.

What I've described above is only a small part of what I believe makes a writer like a painter--a few of the many things I love. What do you like? In what ways is a writer like a painter to you? Let me know.

The Joy of New Life

It's been far too long since I've written here. Too many blogs. Family, work, etc. Excuses, but reality.

I need to write today. I've got to get the feelings of my heart in word.

On October 28, 2010, our youngest daughter made her entrance to the world. Words can't adequately describe how I felt as her little head finally popped out, then her shoulders, and, finally, her whole body. For my wife, great relief. For me, the labor coach, relief and joy. True joy as she appeared to smile immediately, as if to say, "I'm here and I'm glad about it." It was a priceless moment. With in seconds (yes, I said within seconds) after the nurses slapped her to get the crying going, she opened her eyes and started looking around. All of our babies have been alert and "gawking" at an early stage, but not like her. She's been looking around since those first seconds as though she's trying to take in everything.





I can't help but wonder what life has in store for her. Both her mother and I have felt she has a special mission in this life and she has been blessed that she would be light and a joy to all she comes in contact with.

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Taggity Tag - I'm It

I've been tagged by my good friend Cindy Beck to offer up 25 random thoughts (though I only counted ten on her post). Well, here goes.

1) What sound does a flying hamster make when he meets the wall at 1:00 in the morning? "Thunk!"

2) Why does the baby diaper bomb always seem to go off when you're in one of the following situations:

• right as your heading out the door
  
• the one occasion when you forgot and left the diaper bag with the diapers, wipes, extra clothes, etc., sitting on the kitchen table as you left to go to church
• when your wife, after years of not buying anything new for herself, finally finds that perfect new dress and wears it the first time

3) Why do dogs, when you are walking them, have a nasty knack for finding the stinkiest smelling thing on earth and rolling in it?

4) As we were driving through Scotland a couple of years ago, my then four year old piped up and said she was hungry. Being in a somewhat facetious mood, I responded, why don't you eat a toe jam sandwich (she had a massive fixation with toe jam at the time). She didn't hesitate to respond. "Daddy," she said in a matter of fact tone, "I don't like toe jam to eat it, I like to jam to pick it!"

5) What would you do in the following situation? It was time for my three year old to go to bed. Already, by that young age, she was a professional in the art of delay. All parents have been there. "It's time to go to bed now" Mommy (or Daddy) said. "Mommy, I need to go potty," or "Daddy, I need a drink," or "Just one more story." The list could go on forever.

This time it was a "Daddy I need to go potty," night. Our daughter went into the bathroom and proceeded to do her duty. All the while she was singing. After a few minutes I said, "Sweetheart, are you almost through?" "Just about." More singing. After a few more minutes, "Sweetheart, you need to hurry, its time to go to bed." "I'm almost through Daddy." More singing. Daddy lost his patience. I opened the door, only to see my daughter sitting on the pot, relaxed and swinging here legs back and forth like she had all the time in the world. "Sweetheart! It's time to be done! It's time for bed." Without warning, she turned her head, looked up at me, and in the most grown up voice a three year old can muster she responded, "Okay, you grumpy, old man!"

What would you do? I'll tell you what I did. I shut the door. Went into my bedroom, and buried my face in a pillow to stifle my raucous laughter.

6) How does a two-year old take a small bowl of pudding and spread it out on the wall in such a way as to make it look she used a whole pot?

7) Why do little boy's feet smell like pickles after running around in leather shoes all day with no socks on?

8) How does a small dog manage to eat a whole can of dog food in one bite?

9) Why was orange shag carpet (or shag carpet in general) ever popular?

10) Are all children doomed to attempt cutting their hair at least once?

Okay. I'm taking a page from Cindy's book. Dain Bramage has already set in and my cold laiden brain can't think anymore.

Sadly, most of the people in my blog links have already been tagged so I don't have anyone to tag right now. I'll come back tomorrow and tag someone.

"Squishy Pants" Picture Book Contest

Lori Conger, a wonderful mother and the author of the children's picture book "Squishy Pants," is having a contest for a free copy of her book. I invite you to go to her blog, Making Motherhood Memorable to get the official contest rules and read the wonderful articles she's written. Though her focus is on motherhood, as a father of four I could totally relate to much of what she shares. In fact, with some of her blogs submissions, I could have sworn she had hidden a camera at my house. Take the time to visit her site. You'll be glad you did.